


bathtub confessional

by marblecats (kitthefox)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Early Days, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitthefox/pseuds/marblecats
Summary: "...he lets his head roll to the side and focuses on Till. He's right there and he's just out of reach in more ways than one."
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	bathtub confessional

**Author's Note:**

> So you knew this was going to happen right? And if you didn't then you don't know me very well. This was written over two days and is inspired by that ridiculous First Arsch photo.

The girl wedged into the bathtub opposite him is very pretty, and she slides her foot up his inner thigh so very gracefully. Her finger nails catch on his leg hair and goosebumps ripple up and down his skin. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her smile and her foot slides even higher up his thigh. 

He puts his cigarette to his lips and breathes in, the smoke curling into his lungs comfortingly. He doesn't want to look at her anymore so he lets his head roll to the side and focuses on Till. He's right there and he's just out of reach in more ways than one. He's beautiful and he doesn't think he is, he's talented and he doesn't think he is and he's everything Scholle thinks he wants and he's _just out of reach._

Till sits up straight with his legs crossed and his hands folded in his lap. He's looking everywhere but at Scholle and the girl in the bathtub. Scholle breathes his smoke out and it curls across the room towards Till before it dissipates. _Look at me._ He thinks he sees Till's eyes flicker towards him so he affects his best flirtatious look. Till's gaze lingers for half a second before turning back to staring at anything but Scholle. 

He sighs and takes another drag of his cigarette. He can see the girl in the tub with him growing in frustration when her touches and glances fall short. She resorts to suggesting that Till join them but he still stares straight ahead and curls his hands into his lap. Scholle's glad in a way because he doesn't want that, he does want Till but not like that. 

She gives up eventually and climbs out of the bathtub in a huff. Till gives her an appraising look as she goes and Scholle's stomach twists. He wants Till to look at him like that instead of at the girls he charms into his bed every weekend just to prove that he can. He stretches his legs out now that there's space to move and smokes the rest of his cigarette with his head leant back against the rim of the tub. It shouldn't matter this much, it's not even rejection because he hasn't even tried. He closes his eyes and sighs. 

And opens them again when he hears Till move. He's suddenly a lot closer, kneeling at the side of the tub and looking at Scholle with an intense kind of fascination. He's suddenly very aware of his own nakedness, and he shifts a little to try and cover himself further. 

"You could have fucked her." He says in a low rumble, leaning his forearms on the side of the bathtub. Scholle shrugs a little self consciously, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

"I didn't want to." 

"Why not?"

"Just didn't"

"Scholle."

"What?" He snaps. He's suddenly tired of all of this, tired of wanting and not having and being forced to explain himself all the fucking time. Till isn't supposed to be like that, Till just accepts him. Till who is looking at him strangely, Till whose hands twitch like he needs something. Their eyes meet and time stands still.

_This can't be real._

Later he won't remember who moved first because it doesn't matter. His hands curl into Till's ugly shirt and he drags him over the rim of the bathtub. They don't so much kiss as collide and there's teeth and tongue and the taste of somebody's blood floods his mouth. Till kisses like he's drowning and Scholle is air and he thinks he might be drowning right alongside him. He hauls Till even closer and in a scramble of limbs he's collapsed in a heap in the tub on top of Scholle and they're kissing like it's their last day on earth. 

He wants Till out of his clothes so he shoves his hands impatiently under that shirt, counts his ribs with his fingertips until Till gets the hint and loses his clothes. He's seen him shirtless a hundred times but this is different because now he can touch. He's all wiry hair and sun warmed skin and he's thinner than he should be but Scholle can't think about that now. 

He thinks about mapping his hands over all that skin and filing details away for later. Like the way fingernails scraped over already hardened nipples makes him shiver, and a palm pressed flat against his dick makes him choke back a moan. Scholle rolls his hips upwards just to hear the surprised whimper that tumbles from his kiss-swollen lips. If he was the kind of person to do so, he'd be bragging for weeks about how he made him make that noise. 

Till fights dirty though and in seconds that pouting mouth is around his cock and it's _good._ He had some small expectation that this would be new to Till and a sudden surge of jealousy sours his stomach. Still, Till's shoulders are solid under his hands as he hangs onto them like a lifeline. 

Lewd wet noises fill the air and Scholle's head buzzes with sensation. If he wanted to brag over the sounds Till just made, Till sucking him off in a bathtub would have him dining out for months. This isn't how he wants this to go however and he pulls at Till until he lets his cock fall from his mouth. The wet sheen of his reddened lips is obscene and Scholle stares. Till wipes his mouth with an air of self consciousness that Scholle doesn't like, and avoids his gaze, his cheeks flushing to match his lips. 

"What did you stop me for?" He mumbles, struggling a little against Scholle's hold and he looks strangely sweet in his eagerness. 

"Wanna fuck you." Scholle replies feeling emboldened, the weight of his desire finally cracking and spilling over. He watches for Till's reaction, watches a range of emotions flicker across a usually stoic face. Worry builds in Scholle's stomach the longer Till is silent, he feels sick and too hot and like the room is suddenly too small. His entire world is condensed to a bathtub and his friend's internal debate. 

But then Till nods almost imperceptibly and Scholle can breathe again. Relief floods his veins and he's taken aback by the extent of his worry and his fear that Till might have said no and he could have ruined everything in three little words. 

Till noisily spits on his hand and it drags Scholle out of his hazy and racing thoughts. He watches in a new kind of daze as Till reaches back and behind himself, watches the new range of emotions that colour his face. He leans down and kisses Scholle with no coordination as he lines himself up. Distantly Scholle still thinks this can't possibly be a real thing that's happening. 

With some patience, something that neither of them has ever really been great at, and some wriggling, Till gets all the way down. He squirms a little, rocks experimentally. Scholle grips his hips and lets out a moan that feels like months of frustration pouring out of him. Till moves again, tiny rocks of his hips, hampered by lingering discomfort and the very confined space. He picks up a little speed and Scholle panics.

"Till, wait."

A huff of frustration. "What?"

Scholle's thoughts race and he feels like he can't breathe. Till's face above him softens and he leans down and kisses his forehead. "What is it?" He says more gently than before.

"I don't want…" Scholle starts to say but he's cut off by the sheer _hurt_ that takes over that soft expression. He starts to move again but this time like he's going to leave and Scholle digs his fingernails into his thighs.

"Where are you going?" He demands. Till scowls.

"Well if you don't want me." 

"Fuck off, Till, don't be an idiot." Scholle rolls his eyes and plucks hairs from his thigh. "I was going to say I don't want to be someone you fuck once and then leave." 

Till tilts his head and looks at him like he's some curious puppy instead of a beautiful boy with Scholle's dick up his ass. It's jarring sometimes how he can be so sexual and adorable all at once. "If that's what you think, I'm not the idiot here." He says quietly and rolls his hips with a gracefulness he shouldn't be capable of, especially not when wedged into someone else's tub with his best friend. Scholle groans and nods, feeling the muscles of his legs working under his skin.

It's awkward, almost too awkward. Till struggles to move how he so clearly wants to and Scholle's neck aches from the angle he's lying at. Till's knees have got to be painful, the way he's resting on them, his back probably isn't faring much better. Scholle is half a second away from spilling them both out of the God forsaken bathtub and taking him on the floor. But then somehow Till finds an angle that works and Scholle can no longer think, can only feel tight heat and quivering muscle. 

Till's hand wraps around his own cock as he moves, Scholle slaps it away. _He_ wants to make him come, on _his_ dick, by _his_ hand. Till obeys and when Scholle looks up at him again, he is a wreck. His hair is a sweaty mess, falling around his eyes which are blown so wide they look black. 

Scholle twists his wrist and strokes his cock in time with his faltering rhythm, and takes over by pushing upwards when Till becomes too overwhelmed to remain in control. When he comes, it's with a low groan of Scholle's name, his real name, and something about that and the knowledge that he's done that to Till, and the fierce way Till's body tightens drives him into an orgasm that leaves him boneless and gasping. 

He squeezes his eyes shut because the force of it has sent him a little dizzy. He feels Till lift off him and hears the cracking in his joints when he stretches. He feels Till clean him up and then he opens his eyes and finds Till hovering over him, a smile on his face. 

"You can't sleep here." He says with amusement. Scholle pushes him away and regrets it instantly when his muscles protest. Till rolls his eyes and clambers his way out of the bathtub, stretching himself out in a way that suggests he isn't faring much better. 

"Bed next time." He says as he picks clothes up from the floor. "Or at least somewhere with space to move properly."

Next time. Next time, he'd said. Scholle stares at him and ignores the clothes he's holding out to him. "Next time?" 

Till looks at him like he finds him confusing. "You wanted a next time fifteen minutes ago, it wasn't that bad was it?"

He shakes his head. "Of course I want a next time." Of course he does, he wants so much to spread Till out on a bed and take hours to make him come undone. He wants to learn everything he likes and he wants to curl up with him after. He wants a lot and it feels like it might finally be in reach. 

Till throws his pants at him and tells him to stop daydreaming and get dressed. Scholle tells him he's dreaming of next time and Till smiles like the sun. 

**Author's Note:**

> P.S I would advise not thinking too hard about the logistics of fucking in a bath.


End file.
